“No, I mean you’re mistaken about his failure to find you attractive. I saw the way he looked at you on your wedding day. I think he admires you a great deal.”
“My husband admires most women.” Well, that was not entirely true. He had declined Lucinda Pearce's invitation. “He has already grown tired of me.”
What had she done wrong?
Isabella sat forward. “Then you have been … intimate.”
A blush warmed Priscilla’s cheeks. “Matthew insisted it was necessary, from a legal perspective.”
“He actually said those words? How odd. The wedding night should be about more than getting one’s affairs in order.”
“Well, our relationship differs from most. After all, we married out of necessity, spent our wedding night in separate rooms.” Noting Isabella’s blank expression, Priscilla added, “We … we consummated our … our alliance in the afternoon, once the guests had departed.”
Isabella jerked her head back. “You make it sound like a business transaction.”
“It was nothing like that at all.” The moment would be forever ingrained in her memory. Never had she felt so complete, so happy. “It wasn’t planned. One minute we were talking about our living arrangements, the next … well … I’m not sure how things progressed as they did.”
With an excited gasp, Isabella clapped her hands. “Such impulsiveness only occurs when one harbours an intense passion. Your husband wants you, Priscilla, regardless of how he tries to pretend otherwise.”
While his touch caused a fiery heat to course through her veins, she doubted a man with her husband’s experience felt the same. “Matthew is a skilled seducer. He knows how to make lust appear as something more meaningful. If what you say is true why has he not touched me since? Two nights ago, he paced the floor outside my room for half an hour but failed to knock the door.” It was time to acknowledge the truth. “Perhaps I proved to be a disappointment. Perhaps he finds my innocence unsatisfying and prefers someone more accomplished in the bedchamber.”
Isabella shot off the chair and came to sit at Priscilla’s side. “But w
hat if he feels the opposite? What if he’s scared by the depth of his affection?” She patted Priscilla’s hand. “What do you want from your marriage?”
A dull ache filled her chest. She wanted more than would ever be possible. “I want to learn to love him. I want him to love me in return.”
A confident smile touched Isabella’s lips. “Love is within your grasp. Do not underestimate your power as a woman. There are but three simple steps to make a gentleman fall in love with you.”
The comment forced Priscilla to focus. “Three steps?” Oh, if only it were so easy.
“Would you like me to tell you what they are?”
“Of course.” The desperation in her voice was unmistakable.
“Well, the first is lust. Matthew must feel the physical tug in his gut whenever he sees you. Bedding you must become his priority. You must seduce him without making it appear obvious.”
“But I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Think of it as a game. Have faith. The second is attraction. He must find you as fascinating out of the bedchamber. You must be the first thing he thinks of in the morning, the object of his dreams at night. The third is attachment. Matthew's emotional connection to you must be strong enough to suppress all fears and doubts.”
Isabella made it all sound so simple, but the tasks were monumental.
“While I am desperate to make my marriage work, I cannot pretend to be someone I am not. Many of the women who attend his scandalous parties are eager to bed him. Only last night I witnessed one such lady offering her services. While I might appear desperate, I refuse to degrade myself in such a manner.”
Isabella narrowed her gaze. “I hope you put the harlot in her place.”
“They had no idea I was listening.” She squirmed in her seat. “Matthew insists I remain in my bedchamber when there are guests in the house.” The comment made her husband sound ruthless, possessive, controlling. “He says the gentlemen are unpredictable, might assume I am keen to play their games, that I will be out of my depth.”
“Then he underestimates you. I attended one of his parties. I followed Tristan there as I desperately needed his advice. Yes, the guests lack morals. You’ll find their behaviour shocking. But you’re Mrs Chandler — the wife of one of the most desirable gentlemen in society. You’re the wife of a man who fought for his place, or so Tristan tells me, a man strong enough to succeed despite courting scandal. And your place is at his side.”
Isabella’s encouraging words reminded her of something Matthew had said in Lady Holbrook’s garden.
Do not intimate your looks or character are inadequate. Tell yourself any man would be privileged to call you his wife. Believe you are a diamond in a pond full of pebbles.
Priscilla glanced down at her plain muslin dress “But I’ll court ridicule if I stroll into the ballroom wearing a simple ivory gown. People will remember me as the plain, ordinary wife of a notorious rogue.”
“No, they won’t.” Isabella’s tone held a hint of mischief. “You’ll wear something breathtaking, something elegant yet daring. Every woman in the room will wish they were you.”